Thorongil Years 02 : A Wind in the Meadow
by Elennar
Summary: TA 2957. A Stranger arrives in Rohan. This story covers Thorongil's time in Rohan.
1. Strange Arrival

** A wind in the Meadow**

**1. Strange Arrival**

_- Late Spring May, SR 2957 -_

Theoden peered into the dim chamber. He was pleased to find a rather long lumpy shape on the bed. With he exaggerated stealth of a nine year old, he leapt onto the bed with a wild yell. The man on the bed groaned in pain but did not wake. The nurse, hearing the din, found the young prince frozen at the sight of his victim. 

"'Tis not Fastred!" he cried indignantly. "Why is he in Fastred's bed?" 

The nurse quickly snatched him off her charge and marched the young prince to the breakfast table, to face judgment from his rather forbidding parent. There, he found his intended victim wide awake, eating breakfast. The very same breakfast he was about to be banned from. And predictably, his father was not pleased with the nurse's account of his misdeed and sentenced him to help nurse tend the stranger for a week. 

Theoden sat on the high chair with his legs swinging and hitting the chair leg with a rhythmic thud. His tummy growled ferociously. He, in turn, scowled ferociously at the cause of his current predicament. The stranger was a young man and looked much like a Gondorrim, only darker. He has the characteristic raven black hair and angled features. And he had rather heroic bandages bound around his head, arm and chest. And by heroic, he meant the stark red patches of blood that had seeped through the bandages. He wondered if the stranger might be dead. He might have killed the man with his weight. That eroded his resolve to dislike this man further. His tummy growled again and he decided he would not like this man as long as he was hungry. 

Fastred finally came to rescue him from starvation with some bread and cheese. He was relieved that Fastred was not angry with him. And since it was rather hard to hold a grudge with a full stomach, he decided to forgive the stranger too. 

"Fastred, how long will he sleep here? Where will you sleep?" 

"He will stay here until he is well. For as long as he wishes. I am moving out of Meduseld." 

"Why? Where are you going?" 

"To my new home, little one, now that it is ready." 

"But ..." 

"I will come to Meduseld and to court. And I'll come visit you as often as I can. Is that all right?" 

"But ..." Try as he might, he could not muster any protest to this new development. And being a prince, it is improper for him to throw tantrums to get his way. Heaving a long resigned sigh, he nodded miserably. This was turning into a worse day indeed. 

- 

"Well, Fastred, what happened?" 

"My Lord, from what I gathered from the steaders, the steading was raided by orcs. Two strangers they did not know came to help them defend the steading. Both are men of great prowess and rallied the steaders to them. 

"They had beaten the orcs when a new and larger band came. These fell upon their lines and overrun the barricades. One was killed and the other is here, badly wounded. The steaders know neither their names nor whence they came." 

"Question him when he wakes. Then, when he is hail enough, send him to me." 

"Yes, Sire. There's more, Sire." 

"What is it?" 

"Until yesterday, the two strangers had not approached any of our people. But they had been seen by other steadings before, all in West Emnet. Sometimes, they hear noises at night and in the morning, find carcasses of wargs and orcs. Baldor, who has just come from Fords of Isen, said he had seen the two men for about three months now, usually at dusk. The outriders called the tall young one the Eagle, the same man that is now our guest." 

"Intriguing..." 

- 

On the second day, the stranger finally woke. Theoden, who had been rearranging his bed clothes, jumped back with a barely suppressed squeak when confronted with a suddenly opened clear grey eyes. Soon, Nurse was brought in, followed by the Marshal Fastred. 

Theoden was barred from the room and the presence of Fastred's guard outside the door prevented him from eavesdropping. He sulked for a bit, then remembered Fastred will most certainly report the interview to his father. 

- 

"He does not remember his name, Sire, nor the attack at the steading." 

"Can we trust his words?" asked Thengel. 

"There are no deceptions in his speech and manner, Sire. He spoke Westron, but with a strange accent, different from the men of Gondor. His speaks like a man of learning. He is not common bandit or vagabond." 

"The men at the steading spoke of the stranger's great skill with bow and blade. Both he and his companion." 

"I've examined their arms, Sire. They are very well made and well used. Certainly not made by Gondor or the Mark. If the rumours are true, I should like to test his blade work myself." 

"And if you are satisfied with his horsemanship next, you would like to have him in your company," Thengel rejoined with a laugh. "Very well, Fastred, if he is agreeable, you may recruit him into your eored. It will be a kindness to him, if he truly has no where else to go." 

"Thank you, Sire." 

"One more thing, Fastred, he is a stranger to us. And we know little about him than what he chose to tell us. Do not speak of his companion until he brought it up. Let it be a test of his honesty and worthiness."

* * *

**Footnotes:**

In 2957, the canon characters are :   
Age - Name   
09 - Theoden, son of Thengel   
26 - Aragorn, son of Arathorn   
36 - Morwen of Lossarnach, mother of Theoden   
53 - Thengel, son of Fengel, King of Rohan 

1. (TTT - Theoden : See that he /Wormtongue/ does no harm to any, but do not hurt him or hinder him. Give him a horse, if he wishes it.) Despite what Wormtongue had done to him and betrayed him, Theoden seems to forgive easily. 

2. Fastred - OC. Thengel's closest friend who followed him to Gondor and back again. A Marshal of Rohan. 


	2. Thorongil

**2. Thorongil**

_- May, SR 2957 -_

Thengel watched the stranger from the battlements. Morwen had named him Thorongil, Eagle of the Star, when she heard how he had found her lost hairpin. He had seen the pin among the long grass of her garden and had swooped like an eagle to retrieve it, not knowing that her maids had scoured the whole garden for it last week. And he wore a pin of seven-rayed star, the one link to his lost past. It seemed appropriate that he should have a Sindarin name, in the manner of Gondor, as Morwen herself. 

Thengel had watched Thorongil woke four days ago, lost and confused. And now, barely healed, he watched Fastred put a practice sword into his hand. Once the hilt touched his palm, his grip shifted and tightened instinctively. Fastred's eyes gleamed with hope that Thorongil had not forgotten his skills as he had forgotten his name. 

He tried some basic moves to jot Thorongil's memory. Thorongil followed him clumsily without much success. Aware of unseen watchers, he squared his shoulders to hide his disappointment. 

Casually, he opened with a simple chest attack with little force. At the worst, his clueless opponent would get a bruise, one among many half healed ones. Quicker than thought, there was an answering thwack, followed by another and another. Stroke by stroke Thorongil met him. His movements had an alien silky feel, smooth and flowing. 

Faster and faster they fenced until both were streaming with sweat. Finally Fastred scored a hit and saw Thorongil winced. Guiltily he remembered his partner was still recovering. No doubt Nurse will have some words with him later. 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0- 

Three weeks of sword practice had strengthened Thorongil's arms and shoulders. Though he had done well with his skills, he had no luck in teaching them. He became slow and clumsy when he tried to think or show the movements to the others. Fastred had stopped pressing him further after a few failed bouts. But Thorongil was genuinely distressed he had not been able to repay his saviour even in this small matter. 

To get Thorongil out of his frustrations, Fastred taken him to the archery range. He had heard that Thorongil and his companion were good bowmen. Fastred hoped that Thorongil could repeat his feat with the bow with greater success. 

Thorongil examined the horsebow carefully. He has seen the men practiced from afar. The feel of the wood and twine is unfamiliar to him. Yet Fastred had watched expectantly, as if he knew what to do with it. He cleared his mind and tried to find that quiet place that had guided his hands in handling the sword. 

He felt the shaft of an arrow placed in his right hand. He nocked the arrow and drew the string, firing towards a straw target 20 feet away. The string thwacked painfully against his inner arm and the arrow went wide. 

"Try again," said Fastred softly, trying to hide his disappointment. "Put this on." He strapped a long strip of leather to Thorongil's inner arm. "Hold the bow like this, firmly. You nocked the arrow too low. Place it here. Now, draw, aim, release." 

The arrow buried itself two feet in front of the target. "Better. Try again. Put less draw on it." Again and again, Fastred made him repeat the routine. He made some improvements but his aim was poor and uneasy. Perhaps the sword skill had been a fluke. Perhaps he had forgotten his archery abilities... Perhaps he was not familiar with the short horsebows. A longbow was much longer than the horsebows favoured by riders. With sudden insight, he called for Thorongil's bow and arrows to be brought to him. He had not shown Thorongil the arms that belonged to him and Thorongil had not asked for them either. A long sword, longbow and a quiver of green fletched arrows had been found with him. 

As Thorongil beheld the longbow, and felt a stirring of memories. He remembered two voices and a hand adjusting his grip. He tried to glimpse a face with the voices but they faded away as quickly as they came. He knew the bow was his, made for him and perfectly fitted to his strength. Unstrung, it stood to as tall as he and not an inch more. 

He took aim with the bow and started shooting again. The outside world faded into silence. Two nearly identical voices spoke indistinctly but he knew their content. Thud! Thud! Thud! The arrows flew true this time. And the men watching hushed in reverence to his easy grace and skill. 

His fingers groped questioningly over the quiver. Realising he had run out, the spell was broken. He drooped, exhausted mentally. Three remembered voices, he heard and held close to his heart. A woman cheering and two men giving continuous unbroken instructions. 

He looked expectantly at the Fastred. Fastred looked rather pleased with himself. And oddly, Thorongil was pleased too. "Fastred, this bow ..." 

"Yes?" 

"It was made for me, wasn't it?" 

"Made for you? I wouldn't know. But it is yours. Or rather, it came with you." 

"The arrows too?" 

"Yes, the arrows too. You remembered something?" 

"Yes. I think I fletched the arrows. I think I always fletched my own arrows." 

"So... Well, from now on, you can fletch your own arrows. And you can start training with a horsebow too. You cannot use longbow ahorseback. Can you ride, Thorongil?" 

Thorongil looked out to the corral where the riders were training new colts. Nothing. He gave a wordless shrug. Fastred, interpreting his gesture correctly, clapped him on the shoulder. "Don't worry. Tomorrow, we shall see how you fare on a horse. The best way to find out, eh?"

* * *

**Author's Note:**   
2005-02-03 - Will be away the whole of next week. It's the Chinese Lunar New Year. So I'm posting this earlier than scheduled. 

**Footnotes:**   
1. (Appendix - As Thorongil he serves in disguise both Thengel of Rohan and ...)   
2. To be classified as a longbow, the bow must as tall as the archer with straight ends, wider at the arrow plate than any other spot on the top limb.   
3. There's no indication of how long Thorongil was in Rohan and when he left Rohan for Gondor. He was there long enough for Eomund (currently 5) to grow up, but not long enough for him to marry Theodwyn. Also, very, very little information (closer to none, actually) about what he did there, so there's a whole lot of conjectures and total inventions. 

In 2957, the canon characters are:  
Age - Name   
09 - Theoden, son of Thengel   
26 - Aragorn, son of Arathorn   
36 - Morwen of Lossarnach, mother of Theoden   
53 - Thengel, son of Fengel, King of Rohan 


	3. Rider of Rohan

**3. Rider of Rohan**

_- Late Oct SR 2957 -_

Thorongil was now a Rider of Rohan. A proud rider of the Mark, under Second Marshal Fastred; and a wet miserable rider, shivering in the cold. His nose felt numb and his cheeks might crack if he sneezed.

As he reached the gates of Edoras, the bored guards waved him through wordlessly. They all knew him now, after six months in Rohan. _Fastred's pet project_, he'd been called. One of the first few phrases he'd learned in Rohirric, the rolling tongue of the Mark.

They knew he returned bringing news. The news were rarely good these days. The orcs on their borders were getting bolder. Now, all the nomadic herdsmen travelled with armed guards and their women taught weaponry.

He, himself, had just returned from yet another skirmish, bringing news and reports from Fastred. It had taken him two days' hard riding from the borders of Fangorn Forrest to Edoras. The messenger task had fallen to him now that three messengers had been ambushed and killed. Fastred would not risk another young inexperienced rider for the dangerous journey. Thorongil himself had managed to avoid two ambushes and stayed just ahead of his pursuers. They had finally given up on him when he neared Edoras.

When he finally arrived, he and his horse were exhausted. Thorongil was relieved to give his horse to the grooms and started the long climb to Meduseld. He reported in and passed the dispatches to the clerks. Finally, he collapsed into his bed.

_"Fifteen days and three hours! I broke Elrohir's records. Here's the message pouch, Erestor."_

_"Willowbark is good for headache and small pain. Smell this."_

_The air smelled of lavender. A cool hand pressed against his cheek. "Are you awake, Estel? Here's a letter from Miriwen. Shall I read it to you?"_

The air smelled of leather oil and horse and milk. Thorongil groaned inwardly. He forgot to undress again. And of the last, Théoden had come to pay him a visit.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Théoden had not stopped his prattle since he woke Thorongil up. As Thorongil ate his breakfast, Théoden had went on to the latest escapades that involved annoying one of his many sisters, or maybe all three of them. Something he never repeated within hearing distance of his parents. Thorongil could catch about four words in five now, in the jumble of Sindarin, Westron and Rohirric. Enough to be able to get the gist of his story.

Since their first unfortunate meeting and Thorongil's slow recovery, Théoden seemed to feel the need to talked enough for both of them. Especially since Thorongil was incapable of much talking himself. That lent an air of secrecy to him that Théoden had taken full advantage of. It went without saying that every word that Théoden told him, bits of gossip, mischief and childish secrets, would remain a secret with Thorongil. And Thorongil treated every bit of information with equal gravity, never mocking or belittling him.

Thorongil noticed that Théoden seemed to be winding down. He was fidgeting, running his finger along the wood-grains of the table and swinging his short legs. Taking an educated guess, Thorongil said, "What is it you wanted to ask me?"

"Well ... Do you know if Fastred is coming home? Soon? Before winter-time?" he gushed hopefully.

Thorongil suppressed a smile. He had known Théoden was truly fond of Fastred, even hero-worshiped him. His own standing in Théoden's eyes had risen dramatically when Fastred had taken him into his éored. Gravely, Thorongil shook his head. "He is busy guarding the Fords of Isen, little one. He will winter there and at Hornburg this year."

Disappointed, Théoden was silent for a few moments. Then, after heaving a mighty sigh, he brightened up once more. Thorongil had hard time keeping a straight face. For a moment, he sounded just like his father, when confronted with Théoden's latest mischief. "Do you have to leave immediately, Thorongil? Are you going to be busy the whole day?"

"I am at your disposal this morning."

"Good. There's something I want to show you. Come!" Jumping to his feet, he grabbed Thorongil's hand and led him away in a trot, skipping two steps to Thorongil's long stride.

Théoden soon led him to parts of Edoras he haven't been before. It appears to be the royal armoury, with two guards outside. They stood at attention as Théoden passed and offered no challenge. Thorongil was relieved. It appeared that Théoden was expected and he need not explain why he had allowed a child into a room full of dangerous weapons.

The room was large and brightly lit from high windows. An open space was demarcated in the centre. A training ring. Against the walls were various parts of armour and weapons. Shields, helms and coats of mail gleamed in the sunlight, no few of Gondorrim-make. Ornate swords were mounted on walls and plain ones thrown together in bins. Long spears displayed in racks or bunched into thickets.

Théoden ignored the gleaming arrays and head straight for a work table. "Look, Thorongil!" He held up a small shield. It bore the running horse, white upon green, that was the emblem of the House of Eorl. "It's mine. Father let me choose the shield and Grimbold helped me paint it."

Thorongil took it from him and tested the balance. "It is sturdy and light. A good and fitting shield. May it keep you well!"

But Théoden was looking for something more. "Help me strap it on," he urged. "Father said I can start on sword-work as soon as I have mastered the shield. Now that you are here, I intend to master it today!"

* * *

**Footnotes:**

1. (TTT - I have been in this land before, more than once, and ridden with the host of the Rohirrim, though under other name and in other guise. You I have not seen before, for you are young, but I have spoken with Éomund your father, and with Théoden son of Thengel.)

2. Théoden, at this time, had at least two sisters, one elder and one younger, both born in Gondor. Théoden's third sister was born between 2953 (Thengel's return to Rohan) and 2963 (Theodwyn's birth). Conjecture - Third sister would be born by now, perhaps, one or two years old.

3. Conjecture - Théoden was born and brought up in Gondor until five. He would have been taught Westron and Sindarin as was customary to a child born in a noble family. High probability, Morwen would have continued his education in both languages in Rohan. Being multi-lingual from birth, children tend to speak in a mixture of languages before they learn to distinguish one from another. And if kept in practice in all the languages, will speak all fluently or the jumble with ease even when grown up.

4. (TTT - Théoden : And to you my other guests I will offer such things as may be found in my armoury. Swords you do not need, but there are helms and coats of mail of cunning work, gifts to my fathers out of Gondor.)

5. (TTT - ... a small shield he/Gimli/ also took. It bore the running horse, white upon green, that was the emblem of the House of Eorl.)

6. (TTT - 'May it keep you well!' said Théoden. 'It was made for me in Thengel's day, while still I was a boy.')

7. Blooper in Chapter 3 (Rider of Rohan). The rank of First Marshal may or may not be that of the King. What is known in Théoden's time, Théodred was Second Marshal, Éomer was Third Marshal. Most likely, King Théoden himself may have been the implicit First Marshal, rather than some unnamed person, especially in such an important post. Changing Fastred from First to Second Marshal, especially when he was in charge of West-mark, like Théodred, guarding the troubled western border.

In 2957, the canon characters are :   
Age - Name  
09 - Théoden, son of Thengel   
26 - Aragorn, son of Arathorn   
36 - Morwen of Lossarnach, mother of Théoden   
50 - Gilraen, daughter of Dirhael, mother of Aragorn   
53 - Thengel, son of Fengel, King of Rohan


	4. Thengel

**A Wind in the Meadow **

**4. Thengel**

_- Mid Nov SR 2957 -_

Whether by Theoden's design or Thengel's intention, the next despatch to Hornburg was carried out by another rider. Thorongil found himself at loose ends in Edoras and was glad to play Theoden's training partner. He was even more relieved when the arm-master took charge of Theoden's tutelage. Beyond some basic skills, it seemed shield-work was one area his past had not provided for. And so he became both a fellow student and partner to Theoden.

In two weeks, he found himself sparring with the King. Thengel had taken to spending some time in the evening to watch Theoden at training. After a week of studying him with Theoden, Thengel had asked if Thorongil would be willing to demonstrate his sword skill. It was immediately obvious to Thorongil that Thengel was a very good swordsman, even superior to Fastred. But Thorongil was also the better of the two when he was not burdened with a shield, which proved more of a hindrance to his swordsmanship.

Now that he had spent much time in the King's company and at court, Thorongil began to notice some tension in Thengel. Something was not going well. Although he hid it well from his family and advisors, Thorongil knew Thengel was as restless and frustrated as a caged lion. The evening bouts became less a practice session and more an outlet for his tense energy as time progressed. Thorongil grew ever more nervous. Thengel threw himself with recklessness that bordered on manic. Only quick reflexes had saved him from impaling Thengel by accident.

Thorongil found himself cornered one evening. He feinted to the left to force Thengel back, but Thengel met him head on. Their swords clashed and slid against each other. His sword point slipped past Thengel's guard, towards the neck. With a shock, Thorongil changed direction and threw himself against the wall. Thengel seemed to realise his peril and fell back. Thorongil overbalanced and crashed into the sword bins. Wooden and blunt practice swords clattered around him as he looked frantically for the King. With a sigh, he saw that he had not murdered the King of Rohan. Even so, Thengel sported a long gash in the arm.

Theoden, shaken out of astonishment, ran immediately to his father. "I'm all right. I'm not too hurt." Thengel reassured him. But he remained at his father's side as Thorongil cleaned and bound his wound. Then, Thengel declared the lesson ended and sent him off to bed.

Thorongil waited on Thengel as he wondered what the King might say of the incident. Thengel, in turn was silent for a while. When Theoden's footsteps had faded from hearing, he turned towards Thorongil and clasped his shoulder.

"I am sorry for putting you in such a difficult position," he said softly. Thorongil looked up in surprise. Thengel met him eye to eye. "I know what you did at the last moment. Thank you. And forgive me."

The next morning, Thorongil found himself summoned to the king's presence.

"I have something that belongs to you," he said as he gave Thorongil a long bundle, wrapped in linen. "I'm afraid it had slipped our minds till today. It seems I need to apologise to you once again."

Puzzled, Thorongil unwrapped the bundle. As he unveiled the sword, scabbard and belt, he felt the earth lurched beneath his feet.

-.-.-.-.-.-

_An old man sat beside him in the campfire. Five horses stood tethered to one side of the clearing. _

_"We are at the Mering Stream. Across which you would enter Anórien of Gondor," said the old man. _

_Then, the man sitting across the fire said, "As we had agreed, both of you will wait here. If we did not return or send word by June, assume the worst. We will leave the horses with you." _

_He nodded. Tomorrow, three of their company will go east. Tomorrow, a long wait will begin. _

-.-.-.-.-.-

"Thorongil!" Thengel's voice woke him. Much to his embarrassment, he found himself lying on a couch in the room. Seeing that they were alone, he knew the King must have carried him there and had loosened his collar. Then he remembered. Everything. "Thorongil?"

"Sire, there was another man with me that day ..." It was not a question.

"Yes."

"Where is he? Is he ...?" Something in the Thengel's tone made him hesitant. He found that he could not ask it. His voice had deserted him. But Thengel knew the meaning of his unvoiced question.

"He is." Thengel answered gently. "We had buried him at the steading. I hope that is acceptable."

"Thank you." Head bowed, Thorongil was silent a long while. "I beg a boon, Sire." Thengel studied him in silence. Thorongil felt himself weighed and measured.

Thengel was no fool. He knew Thorongil had finally regained his memory. He also knew that there were some things Thorongil did not wish to reveal. Now, he had to decide if the mysteries Thorongil kept would endanger Rohan. Turgon was right. In the end, it came down to a judge of character. How should he judge Thorongil's character? Should he demand disclosure from his mysterious guest? Should he refuse?

Finally, Thorongil heard Thengel said, "Go to Helm's Deep. One of Erkenhelm's Riders will take you there."

TBC ...

* * *

**Footnotes:**

1. (Thengel, his third child and only son, left Rohan when he came to manhood and lived long in Gondor, and won honour in the service of Turgon.) Strangely, Thengel left Gondor in 2953, the same year Turgon died.  
Conjectures: In looking up Thengel's history, it appears there's some parallel between Thorongil and Thengel (leaving own people to serve in foreign land, tho' their reasons are different) as well as between Thengel and Ecthelion (policies and ideals). Also, Thengel and Ecthelion must have both learned from the same man, Turgon. Suggestions of a possible story here...

2. Erkenhelm - OC. A captain stationed in Hornburg, Helm's Deep.

In 2957, the canon characters are :

Age - Name  
05 - Eomund, father of Eomer   
09 - Theoden, son of Thengel  
26 - Aragorn, son of Arathorn  
36 - Morwen of Lossarnach, mother of Theoden   
50 - Gilraen, daughter of Dirhael, mother of Aragorn  
53 - Thengel, son of Fengel, King of Rohan  
71 - Ecthelion, Steward of Gondor

**Author's Note:**

Seems a lot of things left unsaid (and hopefully need not be said) between two men. Is it too disjointed?


	5. Past Burdens

**A Wind in the Meadow**

**5. Past Burdens**

_- Winter Dec 2957 -_

.-.-.-.-.-

_A dark-haired, grey-eyed man knelt beside him on the grass knoll. _

_"It can't be helped. We can't stop the orcs. But if join our strength to the Rohirrim, we will warn them in time and may turn the orcs aside." _

_"It will reveal too much of ourselves. Will you risk that?" _

_"Their scouts have seen us before." _

_"But they have not seen us clearly nor spoken to us. We have our own errand here. We should be going." _

_"Not without doing anything." _

_"Then let us warn them to flee and be on our way." _

_"They will not leave. I will not leave them to die." _

_"You have decided." _

_"Yes." _

_"Very well. Let us make haste. We have till night fall." _

.-.-.-.-.-

Fastred found Thorongil alone near the empty steading. The inhabitants had gone to the Westfold for winter. Erkenhelm had sent his concern to Fastred after Thorongil had failed to return to Hornburg or Edoras. It had been nigh a week now since his man had returned alone.

"Thorongil!" Fastred called out.

Thorongil did not answer him. Nor did he acknowledge Fastred's presence. He remained bowed in grief before the unmarked grave of his nameless companion.

Fastred knelt beside him. "What good can you do here, Thorongil? You should go home. To Edoras or to your real one, if you had any. Surely there is someone who misses you."

"I? Miss me?"

_"Estel! You're home!" A woman's voice called to him. _

"Yes, you dolt. Even Théoden misses you. And I'm tired of getting long letters from him with a long list of things to tell you. Starting with he wasn't angry you hurt his father. It wasn't your fault and his father is very careless and he won't let his father play with you anymore. So you should not runaway." Fastred was pleased to see Thorongil snap out of his stupor.

"What ...? Runaway?" Thorongil blinked dazedly.

"How do you think this looked like to a nine-year old boy? You are running away."

"Ai!" he cried in dismay. "Everything I do have gone amiss. I had failed everyone who depended me. To you, to Thengel, and Théoden;" his voice sank to whisper, "and to my kinsman in his cold grave."

"Thorongil, why did you come to Rohan? What are your intentions in the Mark?"

"We... My kinsman and I. We heard rumours of orcs and other dark creatures gathered here. We came to see for ourselves. To find the cause that stirred and directed them. There were signs. Then we found out about the orc raid. I persuaded him to warn the steading and help set up the barricades. He spoke some Rohirric. We did not know of the second band. We were fortunate that the second band came late. And we managed to hold them back till dawn. We meant no ill will to Rohan, I give you my word."

"I believe you. It seems I ought to thank you, for doing my job for me."

"No. No. I have erred. Badly. By undeserved blessing, we avoided a worst disaster. But for my stubbornness, he might have lived."

"You may grieve for you companion but do not shoulder the blame that does not belong to you. It was my duty to secure the border. Yet I came too late. For the price of your sorrow, I had been spared an even greater grief. Do not hold yourself to blame. It was my responsibility." Fastred was silent for a moment. Although Thorongil had not said it so, he now surmised that Thorongil had been the commander, not the older man they had buried.

Fastred had had a long and colourful career both in Gondor and Rohan. He could see the signs quite clearly. Before him was a young and promising man, in the anguish of first death or fatal blunder of his command. What happens next will require some delicate handling, he thought grimly. He recalled the day Turgon, then the Steward of Gondor, had that lengthy talk with Thengel and himself. That had been very early in their career and in the aftermath of their first disastrous mission. It did not seem so terrible now, though it felt like the end of the world then.

'This should come from someone who knew him well. His father or the captain who gave him this task.' He thought to himself. But since neither was available, he would have to do his best.

From past experience, he knew this was an important crossroad in Thorongil's life. Sometimes, the man in such situation was overwhelmed, unable to see past the incident, leaving a broken pitiable shell. Other times, the man would harden his heart and choose a path of cruelty and destruction, for he has seen the fallibility of Men. Some would choose forgetfulness, only to find themselves upon the crossroads again and again until it ruined them, taking away their sanity. Some would accept their own fallibility and so, gained understanding of the workings of men's heart. They would not forget, but neither would they allow themselves be overwhelmed. From this, eventually, they would learn compassion and gained wisdom.

Therefore, with great anxiety, Fastred watched Thorongil pass through phases of grief, guilt, dismay, self-pity and undirected anger. When he first arrived, he had feared Thorongil had taken the first path in his grief. But it was not so. Slowly, carefully, like guiding a young horse through treacherous paths, Fastred coaxed, cajoled, chided and consoled him. At the end of it, the darkness over him had lightened and he appeared less dejected and more thoughtful.

It was late into the night when he spent the last of his anguish. Fastred had built up a fire for it was bitterly cold in the open plains. A warm supper had mended the rest of their discomforts. Even Thorongil did not appear so wretched as when Fastred had first found him. There was colour in his pale face and life in his shadowed eyes once more. Now that the worst was over, Fastred returned to his duty as a Marshal of the Mark. Thorongil's tale had troubled him.

"Have you recovered you past?" he asked gently.

"Yes, completely." Thorongil was a man of few words, even in the best of time. The new Thorongil appears to be equally reticent.

"What of your original errand? Did you find out why the orcs had grown so bold in Rohan? What do they want? Why have they come?"

"Their purpose, I think, was to weaken and intimidate Rohan. There was something or someone that united them and directed their movements. But it is veiled from my sight. Some devilry is afoot. My duty was to track them to their master and to thwart them anyway I can." Thorongil shook his head in regret. "Even that small task … I had failed to accomplish," he whispered to himself.

'Small? To hunt such dangerous enemies with only two men?' Fastred thought in disbelief. "Consider yourself fortunate, my friend. You would have turned from hunters to prey, if ever you were found out. What now? Will you leave Thengel's service, that ..?"

"I should like to stay," Thorongil interrupted him. A little more steadily, he said, "I should like to stay, Fastred, if you would still have me."

"I would be glad to have you. But, have you no home to return to, as my lord Thengel thought? Surely you would be sorely missed."

"No, my duty... I have unfinished business here." Thorongil's eyes gleamed in the darkness. "I think I can be of use to you. I know how we can stop the raids."

For a moment, Fastred thought he glimpsed something of Thorongil; someone he might have been before he came to Rohan. Or someone he might become, in the fullness of time. He knew not which. Aloud, he said, "Good! We leave at dawn. You can propose it to my marshals and captains when we reach Hornburg."

TBC ...

* * *

**Footnotes:**

In 2957, the canon characters are :

Age - Name  
09 - Théoden, son of Thengel  
26 - Aragorn, son of Arathorn  
36 - Morwen of Lossarnach, mother of Théoden   
50 - Gilraen, daughter of Dirhael, mother of Aragorn  
53 - Thengel, son of Fengel, King of Rohan

1. Under Elemir, Elladan & Elrohir, Aragorn had been in scout & war parties. He had even commanded small companies on his own and gone on one-man missions. But there were others watching and guiding him all those time. They were also watching out for him. This is the first he had been completely on his own.

2. Blooper in Chapter 3 (Rider of Rohan). The rank of First Marshal may or may not be that of the King. What is known is that in Théoden's time, Théodred was Second Marshal, Éomer was Third Marshal. Most likely, King Théoden himself may have been the implicit First Marshal, rather than some unnamed person, especially in such an important post. Changing Fastred from First to Second Marshal, especially when he was in charge of West-mark, like Théodred, guarding the troubled western border.

4. Conjecture - Thorongil's loss of conscious memory, due to concussion, was not canon, but not in contradiction to canon. Trying to keep it minor and understated, as something unimportant that people would have forgotten over the years, especially compared to his later actions, achievements or contributions. And therefore, would not be recorded or remarked upon in the future. Sometimes, negative info canon is as important/useful as positive info canon.

5. Further notes on amnesiac conditions - Summary based on current theories and research. Cerebral concussion may result in temporary loss of consciousness, confusion and amnesia. Amnesia can take the form of Antegrade or Retrograde amnesia. Retrograde amnesia means the person forgets events from their past, i.e. unable to form or retrieve declarative memories or conscious memory of information and events. But he still retains the ability to create new materials, this is to learn and store new memory. It does not affect non-declarative/procedural memory (ingrained and automatic habits like reading, talking, riding bicycle, walking, driving etc), which may be affected by stroke, drugs or severe brain damage. For the most part, amnesia is always temporary and very limited. In mild cases, the memory can be recovered by a familiar surrounding, incident, object or words; coupled with gradual healing of the brain. Some may be prescribed a drug called Amytal (sodium amorbarbital) which helps recover some lost memories. Dizziness, unsteadiness, blurred vision, double vision, nausea, and headaches are also common and may be experienced in varying combinations. Fainting spell is purely for dramatic reasons and partly caused by dizziness.

**Response to Reviewers :**

Thank you to all reviewers for your encouragement.

Grumpy hath reviewed! Phew. What is he going to do at Helm's deep? This and the next chapter should answer it.

To Neoinean and Noldo, I'd felt that the amnesia is the weakest part of the plot. I'm happy you think it went well.


	6. Tactics

**6. Tactics**

_- Winter Dec 2957 -_

At Hornburg, Fastred called the West Muster of the Mark. The regular troops and able-bodied men came from their homes and winter pastures in the Westfold. When his Marshals and Captains had gathered, leaving a small garrison at the Fords of Isen, Thorongil told them his plans.

He had modified the tactics of the Rangers of Arnor to take full advantage of the speed and versatility of mounted troops. He proposed placing small mounted troops to patrol the long borders from the Gap of Rohan along River Isen to the Entwash along Fangorn Forest. It allowed few men to be spread over great distance. By themselves, a patrol of four riders was too few to fight a band of orc raiders. They were meant to give warning to the éored camped nearby. With pre-arranged signals, one éored could call upon its neighbours if they were outnumbered.

There had been much arguments before Thorongil had finished. Especially when Fastred explicitly forbid the patrols from deserting their posts to engage the enemy.

"We are the Eorlingas, not rabbits. We do not flee nor stand aside when there is battle before us. The men would not bear the thought of it." One captain declared loudly in Rohirric. Fastred was not surprised. He had warned Thorongil there would be protests to that particular point.

"You are the Riders of the Mark, the King's men." Thorongil said quietly. He faced the gathering of captains and marshals of West-March, their yellow hair gleaming in the torch light. "If it is your task to run like rabbits, you will run like rabbits. And make a good show of being rabbits too. If 'tis your duty to stand your ground and guard your post, that is what you will do. Still as a rock, no matter how the enemy goads you. Let out the signal and let the main éored take care of them. No one thinks less of you for missing a fight. If you leave a post unguarded, you may let the second band through unchallenged. Do what you must to help you comrades in need, mind you. But do not leave your posts unattended. That is why there are four to a patrol, not one. Remember, we are on a hunt. And our prey is smarter and more vicious than any wolf or boar."

Thorongil did not raise his voice, but Fastred noted that there was steel in his voice that was not there before. His command of Rohirric was also improving. But he still needed to learn how to speak to a Rohirrim. The children of Eorl valued honesty, bravery and loyalty. They were certainly not known for subtlety, Fastred thought in silence. He could have come from Gondor, if only his speech did not betray him.

There was a sullen silence. Then the hall erupted once more as a hundred voices vied to be heard. It was time Fastred put his foot in, so to speak. He banged the table with an empty tankard. Once more, the hall fell silent.

"Come now, Braga," he said, picking the loudest of the protesters. "Are you afraid you might not make a good orc bait? I'll wager a round of ale Gelthane can lure twice as many orcs to their deaths." Fastred raised his tankard to Gelthane, a spindly quiet young man trying to sink into his chair at the sudden attention from the Second Marshal. All eyes suddenly riveted to the unassuming young rider. Fastred could practically hear the wheels turn in the thoughts of his men. All of Thorongil's carefully explained tactics and reasons forgotten. Their capability had been doubted. It could not remain unchallenged.

"Hah!" cried one of the Marshals. "My Calmund is a faster rider. And he has eyes of a hawk. He could out do Gelthane, I'll wager." The hall erupted once more. Before long, each éored had their favourites and the wagering got thick and fast. After that, the Marshals and Captains were more willing to listen to the plans.

Each Marshal were assigned an area and bid to choose his battle ground. The patrols would flee before the enemy in pursuit and they should always lead the pursuing enemies toward these chosen grounds where the main strength of the éored awaited them.

Only at one place was the border unguarded. A valley at the tail end of Misty Mountains where a great fortress called Orthanc sat, tall and black. When Thorongil questioned Fastred about it, he told Thorongil not to worry. "Isengard is safe and securely held. Neither man nor weapon could breach it. It was not part of Rohan. The wizard, Saruman the White, resides there. He needs no help from us as he is quick to remind us. And it saves us the trouble of protecting it. The wild men give it a wide berth. And the orcs go around it. Be careful not to stray too close to Isengard. Saruman guards his borders jealously."

Thorongil was glad their plans had worked well. For once, the Rohirrim passed the Winter with little loss of lives. Fastred was called upon several times to curb the patrols' over-enthusiasm. "I knew I was going to be sorry for starting that silly bet," he confided to Thorongil and Hammond, his Second, one evening. "Some of the stunts these young fools pull to bait the orcs ... It chills my blood. We are fortunate our horses run faster than wargs and orcs."

In the end, Fastred was compelled to buy the promised round of ale. Braga had somehow outdone all other riders in orc-baiting, both in ingenuity and boldness.

Thorongil too had not been idle. While the Riders kept the enemies occupied, he ranged throughout the foothills and river vales, tracking their movements. The vale of Isengard made him uneasy. Though he could neither name nor see the reason, he felt oppressed whenever he came near it. There were a few tracks of someone entering and leaving the walls. But, as Fastred had said, the walls were impenetrable and orc tracks did not come near it.

Fangorn was also a strange place. He was warned many times by Fastred and some of the captains against entering it. He felt a great brooding presence, full of secret purpose within it. He doubted his own feelings and wondered if his mind had heeded too much the fables and stories told to him. It was not the first time he had been told a hairy story or two over a campfire. He would ask Master Elrond later. As it was, he could enter Fangorn safely for about a mile. Deeper than that, the woods felt close and once or twice, he could have sworn the paths and trees moved from where he remembered them. The long familiarity with ways of wild woods and forests stood him in good stead and he came without serious harm.

It was a truly frustrating season for Thorongil. He began to doubt his ability to track his quarry. The trails seemed to vanish into the hills, valleys and forest without a trace. And the mysterious captain of the enemy eluded him. His only clue was a cloaked and hooded man of unknown origins and features. Even the orcs themselves did not know who the man was or where he could be found. Even Thorongil had not seen the figure himself.

As Spring approached, the bulk of the Muster would return to fields and herds. The vigilance held in Winter would no longer be feasible. But their effort had been fruitful. The ranks of the enemy had thinned and they grew more wary. The borders were at peace once more.

One evening, at the end of March, Fastred sent word out to recall Thorongil from the fields. As the first buds swelled in the trees and the muster slowly disbanded, Thorongil and Fastred at last made their way back to Edoras.

TBC ...

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Boy, this is a tough chapter! Hope the tactics and strategies suit a cavalry force. Mixed success for Thorongil and hopefully, he would do better next time. Something of note is that from 2954 when Mount Doom bursts into flame again till circa 3017 when Sauron found out from Gollum about the One Ring, there had been almost no major war effort from Mordor. Mostly, there were rumours, skirmishes and local troubles with Rohan and Gondor. And during the early years which coincide with Thorongil's service, these problems were dealt with or minimised. It is probable that Thorongil's and Gandalf's presence during these years had kept Sauron's plans at bay and stalled or delayed his activities. That is, until 3017, when Sauron found out about Bilbo, the Shire and the One Ring's whereabouts that he mobilised his full strength.

**Footnotes:**

In 2957, the canon characters are :   
Age - Name   
09 - Theoden, son of Thengel   
26 - Aragorn, son of Arathorn   
36 - Morwen of Lossarnach, mother of Theoden   
53 - Thengel, son of Fengel, King of Rohan 

1. West Muster - A muster is a gathering of armed men in times of war. Mostly from éoreds of local lords and recruits from local population. Second Marshal such as Théodred was in charge of the West Muster. Éomer, as Third Marshal, was in charge of East Muster. 

2. Braga - (OC), Captain of Rohan 

3. Gelthane - (OC), newly-made, young Captain of Rohan 

4. Calmund - (OC), a Rider of Rohan 

5. (Appendix - When Turgon died (2953) Saruman took Isengard for his own, and fortified it.) 

6. (Appendix - It was soon after Thengel's return that Saruman declared himself Lord of Isengard and began to give trouble to Rohan, encroaching on its borders and supporting its enemies.) 

7. (Appendix - In 2989 ... At that time Sauron had arisen again, and the shadow of Mordor reached out to Rohan. ... came down from the Misty Mountains, many being great uruks in the service of Saruman, though it was long before that was suspected.) 

8. (Appendix - Curunír journeyed often into the East, but dwelt at last in Isengard.) 

9. Hammond - (OC) Second officer and right-hand man of Marshal Fastred. 

10. (TTT - Aragorn : Elrond says that the two (Old Forest and Fangorn) are akin, the last strongholds of the mighty woods of the Elder Days, in which the Firstborn roamed while Men still slept. Yet Fangorn holds some secret of its own. What it is I do not know.) 

**Respose to Reviewers:**   
**Grumpy**, isn't Theoden a nice kid? LOL!   
**Neoinean**, Fastred found Thorongil some time late evening, but it's meant to be ambigous, since Thorongil is not aware of passage of time. I'd estimate about 6 hours of Theraphy Time and meal. As for getting news back to his people, it'll be addressed in next chapter. 


	7. Many Meetings, Part 1

**7. Many Meetings, Part 1**

_- Spring, early April 2958 -_

Edoras was in celebratory mood that Spring. The deeds in West Mark had spread throughout Rohan. Fastred and his men were welcomed home as heroes. The streets were strewn with flowers and buntings hung on eaves and doors. Thorongil was rather overwhelmed and embarrassed by the attention. Especially when several ladies paid him more interest than he was accustomed to. He had never wished so hard that he did not stand out so much, a dark head in a sea of flowing yellow manes. 

How different it was from the taciturn Dunedain. Of course, this would have been little more than a minor skirmish to the Rangers, long used to dealing with orcs and their ilk, trolls, wraiths and other darksome creatures. At most, he would have been given a pat in the back, told that he had done well and maybe treated to several rounds of beer. On second thought, Elemir might not be too pleased with him at the moment. One whole year wasted and he still had not accomplished what he set out to do in Rohan, among other things. Perhaps it was a good thing he was in Rohan at the moment. 

There was a great feast that night. The Rohirrim were as fond of feasts as the elves, it seems. Bread, meat and ale flowed freely. A drinking cup of mead was passed from rider to rider, in a pledge of brotherhood. There was much poetry and story telling, extolling the deeds of old and new. Even the deeds of Fastred and the West Muster had been cast to song. As his wont in such rowdy gatherings, Thorongil choose a comfortable section of wall space to lean on and faded away. 

While his presence had been forgotten, he did not forget his old habits. The sounds, movements and moods of the entire hall filled his senses. There was a boisterous drinking game in progress involving knucklebones and a lot of shouting. Nearer the fire, several games of dice were set up. He noticed Fastred did not join in, but watched from the sides, alternately encouraging and taunting the contestants. He also noted that Fastred had been carrying his goblet three quarters full all night. A quiet word here or there kept his men from brawling in the presence of the King and his court. 

Thengel looked aged by care in fire-lit hall. There were dark shadows under his eyes and grey in his hair. He seemed stern and forbidding. Thorongil thought it strange, for Thengel had spoken kindly and warmly to the returned eored earlier. He did lighten up a little later in the evening. Thorongil was not sure if it was the presence of his wife, Morwen, or the absence of some of the lords and ladies who had left early. 

To his left, a little later after Morwen returned to the hall, a fugitive crouched behind the door used by the servants. Occasionally, a tousled head poked out. Then, embolden by his success, he inched closer to Thorongil. Finally, he settled by Thorongil's side, shadowed by a great pillar. He was dressed for bed and barefoot. When he tugged on Thorongil's sleeves, his hands were cold. 

Thorongil removed his cloak from the back of his chair and wrapped it around Théoden. Then he picked the child up and set him in his lap away from the cold flag stones. Théoden immediately burrowed into the warmth, his head pillowed on Thorongil's shoulder. Once settled in, Théoden pulled out a pouch from his pocket. 

"Look!" he whispered conspiratorially. "Fastred gave me a warg fang." He pulled out a canine tooth of a warg, four inches long. 

"It looks wicked," Thorongil replied. The fang gleamed impressively in his small hands. Now he knew why Fastred's squire had scrubbed, boiled and polished that gruesome trophy for two days. He could make a good guess where its twin went. 

"I'm going to hunt wargs when I grow up." Théoden made ferocious growling sounds and brandished the fang. Thorongil wondered what would Elrond had said if the twins brought him such a gift when he was ten. His ears burned just thinking about his mother's reaction. 

While Théoden was preoccupied with his own game, Thorongil wondered vaguely if he should have sent Théoden to bed. Théoden might get into trouble the next day for staying up late. Besides, it might not be a good idea to undermine the discipline of a child. Then he wondered how he should go about doing so. Perhaps Théoden would grow tired and returned to bed on his own. He hoped so. He had no idea how he would get off the chair otherwise. 

Bored of his game, Théoden started whispering bits of news. His father had finally relented and he was allowed to start sword training. Could he hunt wargs with sword? When he was told that they hunt wargs with spears and arrows, he wondered if he could start training on those immediately. 

His mother had also insisted he started on dancing lessons. He vowed he would never make any of his children take dancing lessons. And they didn't have to dance with their giggly sisters if they didn't want to. Their hair and ribbons tickled whenever they turned their heads. 

There was also an old man that came last night. He had a big magic sword. He wondered if it really was magic. The old man said it would turn blue when there was something dangerous nearby. Why blue? Why not red or gold or bright yellow? Maybe it wasn't a real magic sword. It didn't turn blue at all for Théoden. He was going to have magic sword when he grew up. Only it would not be a silly magic like changing colour to blue. It will be bright and shiny like the sun and scare away the enemies. But not all of them. Or else there would not be anyone to fight with. 

The old man also needed a walking stick just to move around. Can he really use a sword if he had to walk with the help of a stick? He was a funny old man and he smells funny too. But he told interesting stories. More exciting than his boring tutors. 

Thorongil perked up at this news. Not many old man carry magic swords, especially magic elven blades. He asked Théoden if the old man was still in Edoras. He was told the old man was housed in the West Wing. And maybe the old man would show Thorongil his sword. Thorongil can be dangerous and make it turn blue. After all, he was bigger than Théoden. And if Thorongil made it blue, he must show it to Théoden at once. Whimsically, Thorongil wondered if Théoden's new trinket might actually do the trick. After all, he had never seen a blue sword either. 

Having discussed the funny old man and magic swords thoroughly, Théoden nestled deeper into Thorongil's cloak and drifted off. Thorongil looked about in some vague hope for help. Then, realising the absurdity of his situation, he cradled Théoden firmly against him. It was going to be a long night. 

Fortunately for Thorongil, Morwen, with a mother's instinct, realised Théoden had sneaked out. Before Thorongil lost all sensations to his legs, Thengel found them and claimed the sleeping child, cloak and all. 

It was late, but still before midnight. The carousing would go on for several more hours. Thorongil quietly slipped out and made his way to the West Wing. Only one door showed a lighted room. He knocked and received a gruff "Enter" in reply. The room revealed a coat rack arrayed with a long staff, a tall pointed blue hat, a long grey cloak and a silver scarf. Finally, it revealed an old man with a long white beard that hung down below his waist and long bushy eyebrows poring over a scroll. 

"Gandalf." 

"Estel! You're alive." 

TBC ...

* * *

**Author's notes:**   
Made a silly mistake in earlier story. Gandalf's beard is actually white, not grey.   
It seems Théoden had stolen the show or should I say the keyboard. Quite unintentional. Next, Gandalf and Aragorn's reunion. 

**Footnotes:**

In 2958, the canon characters are :   
Age - Name   
10 - Théoden, son of Thengel   
27 - Aragorn, son of Arathorn   
37 - Morwen of Lossarnach, mother of Théoden   
54 - Thengel, son of Fengel, King of Rohan 

1. (TH - He (Gandalf) took out his sword again, and again it flashed in the dark by itself. It burned with a rage that made it gleam if goblins were about; now it was bright as blue flame ...) 

2. Thorongil made the same mistaken assumption about the properties of Glamdring, as Théoden. 

3. (TH - He had a tall pointed blue hat, a long grey cloak, a silver scarf over which a white beard hung down below his waist, and immense black boots.) 

4. (FOTR - He (Gandalf) wore a tall pointed blue hat, a long grey cloak, and a silver scarf. He had a long white beard and bushy eyebrows that stuck out beyond the brim of his hat.) 


	8. Many Meetings, Part 2

**8. Many Meetings, Part 2**

_- Spring, early April 2958 -_

Estel recounted his adventures in Rohan, from the point they parted company at the border between Rohan and Gondor. Then Gandalf followed up his narrative with tidings of Gondor.

Of the two Rangers, Esgaldir had been recruited as a Ranger of Ithilien. While Bregnaur had gone back to Arnor with reports on Mordor and the situation in Gondor. The Steward had everything under control for the moment and the Dark Lord seemed occupied with his own vassals. When Estel and his partner failed to turn up at the appointed time and place, Bregnaur had no choice but to bring the reports home himself. He had managed to send word to Esgaldir and Gandalf about their disappearances before leaving Gondor. Esgaldir had been anxious about Estel and had asked Gandalf to go to Rohan and try to discover what became of the both of them.

In Aldburg, Gandalf had heard news of strangers fighting alongside the Rohirrim and were slain. When Gandalf sent his bad news from Aldburg to Esgaldir in Ithillien, Esgaldir was almost frantic and had wanted to come to Rohan himself. Gandalf forestalled him with the promise to continue his search in Edoras. And since he had arrived in Edoras, he had been discreetly asking about them without much success. He had feared the worst and certainly did not expect Estel to find him there in Meduseld.

"Esgaldir must be over-reacting. He is very worried about you," Gandalf concluded. "Had both of you forgot to mention that he is your father or such?" he asked teasingly.

But Estel's demeanour remained grim. "No, he is not my father. But he has good reasons to be so anxious." Estel was silent for a moment, stirring his cup of tea distractedly. Gandalf did not press him, guessing that there was something on his mind. Something he had to decide on. Something important to him.

Finally, he looked up straight into Gandalf's eyes. "I trust you, Mithrandir. Master Elrond also put much faith in you. That means more to me than you can imagine." Gandalf was surprised by the intensity of his voice. "But still, I must swear you to secrecy. Will you promise what I am about to tell will never pass your lips without my consent? It is my life, and the life of my people, that I am about to entrust to you."

Gandalf nodded solemnly. There was long expectant silence. Then, all of a sudden, Estel sprang up. "Come! It is close in here. Let us get a breath of fresh air."

He brought Gandalf to the gardens outside. It was dark and deserted. A chill wind blew from the White Mountains. Gandalf pulled his cloak closer. Estel was walking briskly, pacing the paths. He did not have his cloak when he came to Gandalf, but he did not appear to feel the cold at all, so intent was he upon his task.

Somewhat mystified, Gandalf watched him peered around the gardens, as if the very bushes have ears. Satisfied that they were alone, he halted beside a fountain. The water splashed noisily in the stillness of the night.

"Esgaldir has good reasons to be worried," he continued as suddenly as he broke off earlier. "I am not always Estel of Rivendell. Or Strider the Ranger. I was ..." He pause a moment, amending his thoughts. "I am Aragorn, Arathorn's son, Lord of the Dunedain of the North."

"Isildur's Heir? To think Elemir had been keeping this secret for so long."

"Aye. My true name and lineage were hidden at the bidding of Master Elrond." He laid his long hand on Gandalf's arm. "Gandalf, I need your help."

"What can I do, Estel?"

"Well, first, I am known as Thorongil here. You best get use to it." He smiled wryly at Gandalf's raised eyebrow. "I have left a message at the Ranger's southernmost cache-post in January. But no patrol will come there until May, unless something unforeseen should happen. If you could go to Lord Elemir on my behalf ..."

"I can reach him before May. I will do what I can. But why do you linger here?"

"I need to remain here a little longer. Something is about to happen. I'm not sure what it is. I need you to convince Lord Elemir to allow me to remain in Rohan until I uncover it. I may have to go beyond Rohan. But do not tell him that! I will deal with it when the time comes. For now, you can reassure him I will remain in Rohan as I have promised."

"What is it that you suspect?"

"I would rather not say till I'm certain. Tell me, what do you know of Saruman and Isengard?" he said, changing the subject.

"Saruman the White?" said Gandalf. "He is the greatest of my order, learned and wise. He was given the keeping of Isengard by the Steward of Gondor. I believe he had strengthened Isengard lately to withstand the evil things that infest the mountains. He is deep in Rohan and Gondor's councils, among others. He has always been great friend and help to both. Why have you asked?"

"Nay. Idle curiosity. 'Tis not important."

"You heard he is here, in Edoras? Is that why you are interested in him?"

"Ahh ..." He felt like a boy, caught for something he did not do. He did not know Saruman was in Edoras. Perhaps he should have told Gandalf his unease. But what could he say? Childish fears and night shadows were neither evidence nor sound reasoning. He had lived in the wilds long enough to trust his intuition implicitly, but he had also learned not to let it master him. "If you please, Gandalf, should Saruman ask, you only met me by chance tonight, knew nothing more than I am called Thorongil and a rider of Rohan."

"He is wise and powerful, Es ... Thorongil. He could be of great help to you; if you open your heart to him."

"No. Too many have known my secret. Humour me, my friend. I am not yet ready to take another into my confidence so soon. Let it be for now."

"Very well. I am honoured to be so highly regarded by you. Now, if you would be so kind, do help an old man back to his bed ..." Gandalf took Thorongil's offered arm and walk beside him. "You may not feel the cold, Thorongil, but I should like warmer feet and soft pillows."

TBC ...

* * *

**Footnotes:**

In 2958, the canon characters are :  
Age - Name  
10 - Théoden, son of Thengel  
27 - Aragorn, son of Arathorn  
37 - Morwen of Lossarnach, mother of Théoden   
54 - Thengel, son of Fengel, King of Rohan

1. Esgaldir - (Veiled watcher). OC, Ranger of the North   
2. Bregnaur - (Wild fire). OC, Ranger of the North

3. (FOTR - Elrond: This is grievous news concerning Saruman, ... for we trusted him and he is deep in all our counsels.)

4. (Appendix - Thorongil often warned Ecthelion not to put trust in Saruman the White in Isengard, but to welcome rather Gandalf the Grey.)


End file.
